Year Four
by Aviantei
Summary: Ivy Matrons thought the craziness was over woth after her third year... Year four would easily prove her worng. MalfoyxOC Second of five parts.
1. Chapter 1

And I'm back with another fun filled year. My friend read through this four me. Dunno when I'll update cause I need to work on my other fics, too. The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling, Ivy is mine, and Marika is my friend Kate's. Enjoy! ^^

**Year Four**

**Chapter One**

**Year Four: When You Start The Year Off With A Bang Before The Year Even Starts, You Have To Wonder Whether Or Not It's A Good Thing**

I had all-too happily returned home after my term at Hogwarts was over, which slightly confused my parents, but pleased them nonetheless. All of my mother's concerns of me becoming a "rebellious teenager" from the previous summer had been washed away, and I was thrown an extravagant (yet private) fourteenth birthday party in the middle of July, where I was showered with gifts. All funds needed had come from our abundant sources passed down through our pure-blooded ancestry.

And then it happened, the event that completely threw me for a loop. I, like many others, had the intention of attending the Quidditch World Cup finals, which were being held in Britain this year. However, my parents had other plans. They were both members of the Ministry of Magic, and had a business trip they needed to go on, which would span over the last two weeks of my vacation, including the World Cup. Since they had all intentions of giving me whatever I wanted, they recruited the services of a fellow wizarding family that we were acquainted with.

Which was why, at that very moment, I was in fact at the Quidditch World Cup, with none other than Draco Malfoy staring at me.

While this action annoyed me, I could almost see why he was doing just that. Since Muggles, humans who were incapable of performing magic, were employed for this event, we were supposed to dress like them, as to avoid suspicion. In opposition to my school robes that Draco normally saw me in, I had taken to full Muggle garb. Staying true to the fact that I was in Slytherin, both my pants and shirt were green, but the light jacket was a deep purple. Why did I need a jacket if it was the middle of summer? I didn't, really, but the thing was damn comfy. To top off the whole ensemble, I had shoved what I could of my already short brown hair under a hat. I had also toyed with the concept of fake glasses over my dark brown eyes, but eventually decided against it.

Draco himself, with the same silver-blond hair and silver-gray eyes as always, had also resorted to Muggle clothing, but if someone had to pick out which one of us was a pureblood and which one wasn't, they would have most likely chosen him. He had probably decided that if he _had_ to dress like this, he was going to have the best. I personally thought he looked a little stuffy, but who was I to judge?

Though I was grateful to the Malfoys for actually agreeing to put up with me for two weeks, I would have much rather been with any other family right now, even if I didn't really know them. Most preferably, I would've come with Marika Kanda, a girl who I had befriended my first year at Hogwarts. However, she had seemed to disappear the moment we stepped off the Hogwarts Express, and, if every other year was an indicator, I wouldn't see her again until I once again stepped foot on that train.

"Come now, Draco, it's rude to stare," I chided, chucking as I did so. Even if the boy was a pompous brat, he was fun to tease.

Draco scowled at the comment, but took a minute to come up with a rebuttal. "I wouldn't have to stare if you would dress sensibly, Matrons," he responded, using my surname. "What the hell are those?"

I rolled my eyes at this. "They're clothes, Draco; I thought that much was obvious. I also intend to keep wearing them. That is, unless, you would much rather I run around naked." He gaped for a moment, a very light shade of pink crossing over his cheeks, which was easy to spot with his pale complexion. I smirked at my victory before greeting the person I saw approaching us. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy!"

At this, Draco quickly straightened out his expression and turned around to face his father. The family resemblance was very obvious, and one I never became entirely used to. Lucius Malfoy was essentially an older version of his son, the only main difference being that Lucius had grown out his hair to be a few inches past his shoulders.

"Hello, Ms. Matrons," Lucius greeted. "I assume that both you and Draco are ready to go." He took a moment to observe my clothing, which I knew I should have expected. Like father, like son, I supposed.

"Yes, sir, I'm good to go," I dutifully responded, smiling. "What about you Draco?" I had every intention of actually getting Draco involved in this conversation. He simply nodded, still put off from my earlier comment. Regardless of whether Ireland or Bulgaria won the match, I already officially dubbed this day to be the best part of my summer.

--

Later on, while I was stuck running, I wondered exactly what the hell I had been thinking. The match had been fine; Lucius had secured seats for us in the Minister's box, and I had been able to happily watch as Ireland defeated Bulgaria, 170-160, a much more interesting game than the ones that were held at Hogwarts. However, during the following celebrations, chaos had broken out as Death Eaters, who were supporters of Lord Voldemort, decisively had gone on a rampage.

To be honest, the running hadn't been my idea, but Draco's, and I mentally cursed the boy for it as I reluctantly followed him into the woods that surrounded the campsite. As much as I hated looking at it this way, the two of us had absolutely no reason to run. We were both of pureblood ancestry, not to mention Draco's parents were Death Eaters themselves, which was why they weren't with us at the moment. I decided to bring these particular points up.

Draco seemed quite pleased with my concern, and he smirked. He stopped running, with me doing the same right behind. "I'm kind of surprised you actually followed me this far out, Matrons," he remarked, turning to fully face me.

I sighed deeply, irritated already. "Mind telling me _why_ I just ran for no damn good reason?" I demanded. I had never been a very athletic person, unless it came to Quidditch. Then again, Quidditch was conveniently a sport that didn't involve any running.

"Well, it's nothing terribly important, Ivy," Draco responded, the use of my first name letting me know something was up, not to mention making me uncomfortable. The fact that I was slowly getting backed up into one of the surrounding trees made the feeling even worse. "I'm just trying to pick up some unfinished business from last year. You do remember last year, don't you?"

Did I remember? What a stupid question, of course I did. I had been trying to relax at my favorite spot on the Hogwarts grounds, when none other than Draco had showed up, sporting a black eye, which I later learned to be the work of Hermione Granger. And what had happened after that…

"So, tell me, Draco, how did Madam Pomfrey react when you came up to the hospital wing with two black eyes?" I questioned, relishing on my memory of giving him a particularly nasty left hook. I had considered going for the nose, but hadn't particularly felt like getting blood on my robes.

I was expecting a retort to my query, but didn't get one. Instead, Draco moved closer to do the very same thing that had gotten him punched last time, and I mentally resolved that he wasn't leaving without a broken nose, no matter what bullshit explanation I would have to give his parents, and quite possibly mine, later.

Draco slowly pulled his lips away from mine, and I waited for the wave of anger that would send my fist flying into his face and the wonderful crunching noise that would follow. After a few moments of nothing happening, I was sorely confused as to what was going on. It seemed so was Draco, since he was gaping at me again.

"You _liked_ it," he whispered, though it sounded more like he was convincing himself as opposed to rubbing it in my face. "You actually _liked_ it…"

The revelation hit me just as it had hit him, and I was forced to employ the tree behind me as support. I simply stood there, staring into his eyes. It scared me, knowing that I had no real evidence to prove otherwise. If all else failed, I could always claim insanity, which seemed about right. After all, what other explanation was there that could make it true? Draco Malfoy had _kissed_ me, and I had _liked _it…

Then the sound of approaching footsteps and voices came, snapping the two of us back to reality. Draco opted out to lean against a different part of the tree and watch the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees, his arms folded. I, having no real reasoning as to _why_ I suddenly felt cold, pulled my arms around my chest in what could be described as a self-hug and determinedly stared off in the opposite direction.

I didn't listen to Draco's conversation with Harry Potter and friends. My mind was too busy reeling at the fact that I still had another week in the Malfoy household.


	2. Chapter 2

So... I finally got my shit together and wrote another chapter for this. Which means I can finally get to work on Exception, since that seems to be winning the poll right now... Yea, I decided that hosting a poll would be a good way for me to have motivation to write stuff. So if you want me to update this, go vote for it. And enjoy this lovely little excursion into the Harry Potter universe. ^^

**Year Four 2**

**Chapter Two**

**Year Four: No Matter How Old You Are, Childish Revenge is Still Fun, and Apparently Leads to Dramatic, End-of-Chapter Cliffhangers**

As for how I spent that last week, I took on a more nomadic existence of coming out to eat, then avoiding Draco at every possible turn, mostly by staying in my room. This, of course, worried Narcissa (Draco's mother), in an action much akin to that of my own mother. She more than once asked about how I was feeling (pissed off) and if there was anything she could do to help (kill her son) whenever our paths crossed. I held back my real feelings and assured her that everything was fine, adding some excuse similar to me studying in preparation for the upcoming year.

However, how I was spending my time in the heavily furnished guestroom that had been provided to me was another story. While I _had_ tried to make good use of my time and study, my mind had become more preoccupied with other things. Or should I simply say "thing." Because I'm pretty damn sure it can be easily guessed what had been going through my mind at that time.

Draco had kissed me. _Again!_ And I had let him. _Again!_ I felt extremely stupid at my actions in both events. I had even let him be my first kiss… Dammit! All in all I felt really irritated at myself… and him, of course. Then again, the main issue I had difficulty dealing with was that last time I wasn't even mad enough to punch him. Which, like he had said, meant I had enjoyed it. And after everything I had done to not get involved with a spoiled brat like him…

My only solution was to be extremely pissed off at myself… and most certainly him as well.

The barriers I had put up to keep my foul mood away from Mrs. Malfoy (I really didn't want to cause any trouble) fell away the instant I finally boarded the Hogwarts Express, and I stormed my way past the other students and into a blank compartment. I sat down, sulking/seething as I waited for someone to attempt to join me so I could bite their head off. Unfortunately, whenever the door slid open, I had to contain myself.

The reason was simple: the person now accompanying me and my attitude was Marika Kanda, one of the few people at Hogwarts I didn't mind being associated with. It had nothing to do with the whole pureblood/Slytherin thing. I had simply become acquainted with her in our first year and she had stuck with me ever since. Her hair was an overly impossible shade of dark purple I attributed to non-caring parents and a bit of magic, though her eyes were a light shade of blue that my mind always associated with a clear summer sky. Almost always chipper and occasionally crazy sounding with her talk of supposed other dimensions, Marika always kept things interesting.

She looked at me once and immediately brightened up at my foul mood—apparently I reminded her of someone back home whenever I got like this. She stowed away her trunk in the storage of our compartment, rechecked that she had closed the door properly, and sat down on the cushion across from me, an overly happy smile on her face. Then, without missing a beat and avoiding what could have been a semi-awkward silence, she asked the question she had probably wanted to since she had made her entrance. "So, who pissed you off and when do you want me to blow them up in Potions?" She was referencing her lovely disposition for sending up concoctions in smoke and the fact that her Slytherin status prevented the professor for that subject and head of said house, Snape, from really caring what we did as long as it was able to be reasonably ignored.

"_Draco_," I spat, and her eyebrows automatically shot up. In the four years we've known each other, I've only gotten pissed off at Draco twice, the first during our second year when he was running his mouth about the Chamber of Secrets, and the second last year when he had kissed me the first time. Of course, I had never told Marika about that kiss since that would have only solidified her theory of me and Draco making a good couple. Before, it was easy for me to deny such accusations, but now…

"Wow," she marveled. "He must have done something really horrible." Damn right he had done something horrible! "I don't think I've seen you this mad _ever_. What'd he do, kiss you or something?" I worked hard to contain my wince since it would have given everything away and thankfully succeeded. I didn't feel any color in my cheeks either. So far, so good.

"Nah, he seemed to have all his limbs in tact and functioning, so that couldn't have been it," she continued. "Sure, he could've gotten it fixed with magic, but he wouldn't have been looking so smug when I walked by him. How much trouble can you get into when you've only been on the train ten minutes?"

I realized that even if I didn't mention my excursion to the Malfoy home, Marika would find out eventually, because she just seemed to be able to do know about everything. Just when I was about to bring it up, another voice floated in from the hallway, piercing my brain. Both Marika and I turned our heads towards the door at the sound of Draco loudly going on about Durmstrang, one of the other top magical schools in Europe, and how he would've gone there if it weren't for his mother worrying. Part of my brain recognized it as truth, and another brought up something both my father and Draco's had mentioned. But the train of thought was put on the back burner as another familiar face crossed the door's window.

I noted the person and her shoulder-length brown hair's existence, and by the time she had walked past the door, I felt really grateful that she was there. With Draco's voice growing in volume as its owner came closer to the compartment, I practically flung myself towards the door and almost slammed it open. I kept hold of the handle and leaned outwards, turning myself to the right.

"Nickolle!" I shouted, waving my free arm sporadically. The girl with brown hair that had just passed the window automatically turned her head at the sound of her name, showing off the brilliant orange eyes that rested behind lenses in the shape of large, fat ovals. Why was it that my friends all had these exotic looks when I was so plain? "Hey, why don't you come sit with us?" I was very aware that my voice was much louder than it needed to be; people on the other end of the train could probably hear me. But that really didn't matter since I was too busy thanking the universe that Nickolle had been walking towards Draco, and I could see the expression on his face: one of combined shock and disgust.

Nickolle silently nodded towards me and turned around to make her way towards the compartment. As she entered behind me, I threw a satisfied and superior smirk in Draco's direction before shutting the door. Marika was helping Nickolle stow away her trunk and I pulled down the blinds that would cover the window and block out the rest of the train for a while. I took back the seat I had been in earlier, and Marika did the same, moving over a bit to allow Nickolle a place to sit.

"Well, well, well, the uninvolved Ivrena Matrons intentionally causes a scene," Marika commented happily, looking like she was going to burst out of sheer pleasure. "Come on, tell me what he did before poor little Nickolle-chan here gets confused." My best friend dropped her arm around the other female's shoulders. Nickolle herself actually got in her first words since I had seen her last.

"What whom did?" she asked, with an obviously apparent accent, even to a fellow resident of England. I wondered if she would mind that I had just used her in a bit of childish revenge. Then again, considering who she was, she would probably appreciate it and count it as a compliment that I was able to involve her in pissing Draco off.

Nickolle was, with a lack of a better word, a Mudblood, a witch with non-magical parents. That was reason enough that my act would stir things up amongst the students of Hogwarts; Slytherins just didn't associate with those kinds of people. Then again, I hadn't ever been a very convincing pureblood, let alone Slytherin. But the real low blow with this was that, once again, back in our second year, little first-year Ravenclaw, Nickolle Dukes, had successfully handed Draco's ass to him with a simple charm. Marika and I had front row seats to that escapade, and it had been plenty of reason enough for us to befriend her.

"What Draco-chan did, apparently." Marika's voice broke me out of my thoughts. I struggled to find a good pick-up place and excuse that held no romantic connotations whatsoever. The tricky part with Marika was that you had to be very convincing with your lies or she just saw right through you.

"Oh, yes, he was being obnoxious just then, wasn't he?" Nickolle added on in her usual grammatically perfect sentences. I waited for Marika to redirect the conversation to me, but she apparently missed the opening because Nickolle continued on with ease. "He was going on about some place called Durmstrang, correct? What's that?"

"It's another wizarding school like ours," Marika cheerfully informed. I duly noted that she, once again, seemed to know everything. "But if you don't know about other wizarding schools, Nickolle-chan, then I suppose you don't know about the big event, right?" The Japanese girl's face turned into something almost resembling smugness, which was extremely odd on her child-like features. I just took it in relief that it meant me and my overly delicate topic were safe for the time being.

"Nickolle-chan, have you ever heard of a competition called the Triwizard Tournament?"


End file.
